


weightless like i'm falling on the moon

by Love_Me_Dead



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, M/M, Pining, Shotgunning, Weed, boys who dont talk about their feelings, idk what else to tell you about, lots of whining, semi public sex, whiny rich kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Me_Dead/pseuds/Love_Me_Dead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis rescues Harry from a dull party that his parents host. Feelings get involved in a meaningless hook-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	weightless like i'm falling on the moon

**Author's Note:**

> For Susan, happy birthday.
> 
> Tiana is my favourite person ever and i'm eternally grateful that she betas all my fics. i also have to thank the mixes i found that helped with all the atmosphere and whatnot. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

Louis’ got two choices whenever his parents host those fancy parties that they love so much: he can either dress up and do his hair neatly and mingle with the rich families, or he can hide away in his room and make himself dinner when the night is over (which isn’t until closer to midnight). Seeing as his cooking skills aren’t quite adequate and the food they have prepared for these parties is absolutely delicious, he sucks it up for a few hours and puts on a nice shirt and makes sure his hair is to his mum’s standard.

He sticks through all the middle-aged women telling him “how very handsome” he is, and insisting he must get all the girls at school, how they must simply fall down at his feet like his life is a bad YA novel. He stands politely through the middle-aged men telling him that he must be very intelligent, seeing as who his father is (even though his “father” is his stepdad) and telling him that he’ll surely be very successful in life, as if that was supposed to be reassuring or flattering or _respectful_ in any way.

He smiles woodenly as the rare little kid, always in awe of him and always begging him to play, spins by in a whirlwind of energy, not yet acclimated to the stifling atmosphere caused by so many rich adults in one place.

He doesn’t like the dinner parties or the Christmas parties or the New Year’s parties or the barbecues or _any of it_.

He doesn’t like the people who come to boast about the new summer home they’re building and the yacht they’re planning on buying as yet another symbol of their financial status. But it’s better than going hungry that night or staying with his aunt like his sisters do, so he toils through it for the food and the off chance some other family brought their teenage children around so they have someone under thirty to talk to.

Tonight is their annual Halloween party, which is really just the same as every other party they throw except tonight has a few more decorations set up around the spotless house.

It’s nothing special, as Louis reminds himself, and the Halloween party he should be going to is being hosted by Zayn because his parents will be here, unable to push their expectations of contained conversation and propriety on the people in attendance. Louis feels cheated, because Zayn has the best parties and knowing him there’d be enough pot to sedate a rodeo, but Louis isn’t allowed to go out when his parents are throwing a party.

They know what he’d do the instant he was allowed out of their sight, they’ve guessed that he’d jump at the chance to get high and go to parties that actually involve him enjoying himself for once, and they’ve blocked any chance of it. His only options on party-nights are to go to his aunt’s or confine himself in room or attend.

His plan for tonight is to sneak out and find his way to Zayn’s party. He can’t just let himself miss something so good that he’s sure will be spoken about for months to come with the best stories. Missing it would be horrible, because then he’d be subjected to hearing about it and it would make him ache with longing to have gone every time they spoke about it.

So he’s going to sneak out. It won’t be the first time he’s done this so he knows he’ll be able to get away with it, what with his parents being so obsessively anal with cleaning up and entertaining their guests.

A rap on his door signals that he has to come downstairs and Louis sighs, shutting off his laptop and setting it down before he stands and changes. A black button-up suits the night and he can always change before he leaves to not risk ruining the expensive shirt that his parents bought him. He fixes his hair and goes downstairs, plastering on a picture-perfect smile to sate the adults.

The living room is already full of people and it makes Louis want to spin around and retreat back to his room and act like a total hermit until he has to sneak out. They’re all standing around and talking and Louis jumps right in, standing next to his mum and greeting the couple she’s speaking to, Nicole and John Barese. Louis knows their daughter, Samantha, who’s a year younger than him and perfectly summed up the stereotype of a vapid daughter of a one percenter.  

“Oh, Louis, good evening. Happy Halloween,” Nicole says with a bright, cheery smile that Louis finds he can reciprocate without much force for once. Happy Halloween indeed when he’s gunna be high as a kite in a few hours.

He gets through the conversation, and through dinner, which is really just a buffet and he doesn’t even care if he gets food poisoning from someone sneezing on the roast. If the night goes to plan, he’ll be too high to care that his stomach is churning and he’s throwing up at all.

Louis mingles around the room a while before he notices the new family. It’s not strange to have new people at these things but the family isn’t as social as all the others, not walking around and not taking any drinks when offered. They’re staying to themselves, letting other people approach them.

Around nine when everyone is getting drunk enough to start gossiping in loud voices, Louis heads up to his room after telling his mum he’s got a headache. She tells him to get some rest and he nods, frowning, before he goes upstairs. He changes out of his nice clothes into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and he messes up his hair, slinking into the kitchen and out the back door. The laughter masks the noise and he’s out onto the porch without a hitch.

He stops when he sees there’s someone on the porch, bent over the railing. Louis is worried they might be getting sick but their stature isn’t that of one of the adults, they’re too masculine to be a woman and too thin to be one of the men (most of which have potbellies that bulge against their blazers). He watches them while they stand up to their full height and turn to see him and he’s soothed when he sees it’s another teenager, someone who won’t rat him out to his mum.

“Hey,” the boy says lowly, looking at Louis. “Uh, is the party over?”

“No, it’s still going,” Louis says, making his way to the porch stairs. “I’ve just got other plans for the night.”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his curls. He’s holding his phone in his hand and Louis continues moving towards the stairs. “Do you know what time it will end?”

“A couple more hours for sure,” Louis answers. His guess is that this boy’s got a girlfriend that he wants to see and he wants this to end sooner than later.

“Where are you going?” The boy asks, looking jealous, like he wants him to stay around.

“Out,” Louis shrugs.

“Aren’t your parents here?”

Louis laughs. “My parents are hosting this whole thing, I can sneak out.”

The boy sighs again. “Lucky.”

“You should come with me,” Louis says, giving him a small grin. Zayn would be glad to have someone else and he knows that this boy would love more than anything to be away from the stuffy adults and their idea of having fun.

His green eyes bug out a little. “Are you sure? Where are you going? What do I tell my parents?”

He shrugs. “Tell them you feel sick. I’m going to a party my friend is throwing. Cheap alcohol, expensive weed,” he smiles pointedly, “horny people.”

“Uh,” poor guy seems a bit wrong-footed at that, but an instant later he just looks interested, “I’ll be right back.”

The boy ducks back into the house and Louis is glad he won’t be walking alone in the dark like he normally does when he sneaks out, which isn’t really that often. He leans against the railing of the porch, itching to get to the party because he’s been looking forward to it for so long and now he gets to show up with a cute boy at his side.

The boy comes back out with a mischievous smirk, keys rattling in his hands. “My mum said I could take the car.”

“Awesome,” Louis grins, taking his key-less hand and leading him down the back steps and down through the driveway. He leads him down the pavement, past the garden of admittedly stunning flowers that his mum is constantly boasting over but doesn’t have a hand in growing (though she does hire a gardener).

The boy gets in the driver’s seat and the car is nice, which isn’t surprising because the boy’s family obviously has money. Louis looks over at him and he can’t help the smile stuck on his face. This boy has a presence about him that most people he meets at those parties don’t, one that makes Louis want to _know_ him beyond the obvious fact that his family is rich and he has his driver’s licence. He’s got a strong jaw and brown curls and Louis likes him already, even though he doesn’t know his name.

Louis directs him to the party and they arrive at Zayn’s. It isn’t the biggest gathering he’s ever been to but he can hear the music spilling out of the house and he can feel the energy thrumming out in waves and currents. He almost trips in his haste to get out of the car, further distancing himself from the shrill laughter and pretty champagne flutes at his own home. He’s ready for the loud laughter and the loud voices and loud music and the sweating beer cans and the thick smoke from a joint.

The boy follows him along the sidewalk, chuckling quietly at his fast gait. “Hey, uh, can I know your name?” He asks.

“Louis Tomlinson,” he says without a beat, looking over his shoulder to glance at him. “You?”

“Harry Styles.”

“God, you even sound rich.”

“Well, so do you.”

They both snicker at that until Louis gets to the front door and pushes it open. There are people lingering in the hall and he knows exactly where he’s going when he looks up at Harry.

“So I’m going into the basement. You can join if you want but like, there’s beer and stuff in the kitchen and there’s people looking to get some so just have fun, yeah?” Louis suggests, already edging towards the basement door.

Harry nods. “It’s better than that stupid Halloween party. No offence, or anything.”

Louis shrugs ruefully, “nah, yeah, this is way better.”

He opens the door to the basement and immediately the aroma of pot hits him, the smoke thick enough that he can almost feel the rasp of dry paper on his lips and he can already hear Zayn’s laugh. He follows the sound down the hall, Harry trailing behind him, and comes into the basement. The lights are low and the furniture has been rearranged to create a circle with easy entrances and exits, a few of which are blocked off with bags of chips and other junkie foods.

Zayn is sitting on the couch, handing off the joint to Niall and his face breaks out in a grin. “Fucking finally,” he says, patting the couch next to him and extracting his hand from Liam’s hair.

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis intones, sitting next to him and watching his free hand go back to Liam’s hair, rubbing gently into his scalp.

“Who’s that?” Liam asks, tilting his head back to look at Louis. He glances over at Harry, who’s still standing there near the hall looking uncertain and awkward with his stupid long limbs and his cute face.

“His name’s Harry,” Louis answers, poking Liam’s cheek, which makes him laugh. “I rescued him from that god awful party at my place.”

Everyone laughs and Harry looks up at the mention of his name. “Sit anywhere,” Zayn says.

So, naturally, Harry takes a seat at Louis’ feet. He doesn’t particularly mind, mostly because when Harry sits, Niall hands him the joint and he takes a long drag. His annoyance from the party and his paranoia of being caught sneaking out disappear when he exhales and he hands the joint off to Harry, who leans back against his knees as he looks at it, his fingers shaking a little. Louis laughs, mostly because it’s adorable the way he looks so inexperienced with his little cough as he hands it to someone else.

It goes like that for a while, the entire room sharing giggles and pointless stories, which make them all laugh even harder. Each time Harry is offered, he turns down taking his own hit of weed but Louis is pretty sure he’s got a contact high by now, what with only one window being open. It has to be the fifth time Harry refuses a smoke that Louis says something about it and by now, a lot of people have dissolved into smaller discussions and Andy has left, an indicator it must be getting pretty late. (Though he did leave with his girlfriend and they were getting awfully handsy.)

“Look, mate, do you at least want a beer or something?” Louis asks, leaning down closer so Harry can hear him better. Now that he’s here, it looks like it might be nice to kiss his ear. So he does and Harry, to his pleasure, giggles and shies away only a little.

“It’s just I’ve never really smoked before,” Harry says quietly, looking at Louis and his eyes are all big and green.

Louis clicks his tongue, making the clucky little noise his mum does whenever she’s fussing over him or one of his sisters. “I’ll help you, I can’t have you just being the only sober one here.”

“Okay,” Harry says, wearing this shy little grin that makes Louis want to kiss it all off his face.

He should kiss him. That would be fun.

He clambers from his seat on the couch, giving Liam the opportunity to steal his spot but he doesn’t mind. He takes a joint and straddles over Harry’s thighs, effectively sitting on his lap while facing him. “You okay with this?”

Harry nods, hair bouncing with it.

“I’m gunna be getting pretty close, so, like, tell me if you want me to stop,” Louis says, watching Harry nod again. “Okay, so what I’m gunna do is breathe smoke into your mouth. Inhale, okay?” A third nod.

Louis raises the joint to his mouth, breathing in and feeling the drug calm his remaining tension. He leans over Harry’s mouth, cupping his cheeks and making sure his lips are parted, and he brushes their lips together and it’s good and Harry’s lips are lovely. He exhales into his mouth, feeling him inhale and it feels even better to help him like this. He hears Zayn catcall and he ignores it, chuckling a little as he pulls away from Harry and watches him breathe out the smoke, coughing a little around it.

“That’s… nice,” Harry says, looking at Louis with an amused smile.

“You’re cute,” Louis grins, his fingers still spanning over Harry’s cheek.

“You are too.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“’Kay.”

Louis leans over again, slotting their lips together properly and kissing Harry. They both sort of giggle into it but it’s nice and Harry’s lips are nice and he really kind of likes it. Harry’s hands fly from their nest on the carpet to rest on Louis’ hips as the kiss gets a little more heated, their movements a beat quicker than before. It just spurs Louis on, licking into Harry’s mouth, to which Zayn laughs and calls out, “keep it PG!”

It seems like forever has passed when they surface, and Louis can’t help but laugh because of the look Harry’s got on his face. His lips are still parted a little bit and his eyes are blinking and looking straight into Louis’, a little shocked but he looks happy and he looks like Louis felt during the first time he got high. Louis sits up, patting Harry’s cheeks and handing him the joint. Someone’s finally changed the song and he watches Harry take a pull off the joint, looking to Louis for approval.

“You’re doing fine,” Louis praises.

Harry exhales again, a little easier than the first time and he gives Louis a proud smile. He passes it off to someone else and he leans up to kiss Louis again. They both laugh, the kiss breaking until Harry peppers a few kisses to his lips between giggles and chuckles.

All things considered, Louis didn’t really expect to be sitting on a cute boy’s lap and kissing him.

But that’s what’s happening and it’s going well. Their giggles have subsided for the time being and they’re kissing again, their hands sliding under each other’s shirts to feel at their chests and Louis can feel the solidity of Harry’s chest. Their mouths are moving together, the rhythm perfect and their tongues are curling together and Louis can almost see the movements and it’s a lot like the pretty spiralling of the smoke in the room.

And Louis rolls his hips down, just because he can and just because he wants to see how Harry will react. When he does, he pulls away from the kiss, bursting with another laugh because Harry is hard, just from the kissing and maybe Louis’ hip thing a second ago. Harry, evidently dissatisfied with the lack of contact, leans over and kisses Louis’ jaw and neck and he tugs his shirt down enough to nip at his collarbone but he’s still giggling. He can feel Harry’s hard on.

“Babe, babe,” Louis says softly, trying to speak _just_ quietly enough that he can be heard over the music.

“Mmm,” Harry grunts in response. His lips are still working at Louis’ collar.

“C’mon, let’s go to the bathroom.” Because, well, Louis won’t lie that he’s hard too.

Louis stands up and Harry clambers to his long legs, stumbling after Louis towards the bathroom. Zayn whistles after them, Liam shouts at them to use protection and Louis sticks up his middle finger as they stumble over each other on their excited beeline to the bathroom, finding it blessedly unoccupied. He shuts the door behind him, Harry’s lips covering his own the second he flicks the lock. Harry’s hand finds his hip, squeezes gently and works down to his crotch, palming him until he sighs into Harry’s mouth.

They pull apart as Louis remembers that his hands can, in fact, move away from the door. This prompts him to reach down and fumble with Harry’s belt.

He’s still dressed in party clothes, nice pants and a nice dress shirt and Louis is pretty sure he abandoned his blazer in the car and all Louis wants to tear it all off with his teeth, erase the pretense that they’re somehow superior to other people just because they have a few more figures in their bank account. He just wants Harry laid bare in front of him, showing something a little deeper than the fact his parents are rich. He wants to know everything about this boy and the most pressing thing he wants to know is what gets him off and what kind of desperate noises he makes when he comes.

Louis is able to tug down Harry’s very nice pants and name brand underwear down to his thighs, and he feels his hand immediately closes around Harry’s cock, eliciting a small gasp from him that makes Louis swell with pride in ways that aren’t entirely metaphorical. He pulls his hand up, letting his thumb run over the slit of his cock and it makes Harry makes a small whimper, his teeth gritting together as a blush rose to his cheeks. Louis beams helplessly into the planes of Harry’s stomach at the sight. He finds a rhythm, using the beat of the music playing upstairs as a starting point and it’s kind of slow but it works and it’s giving Harry this pained look on his face that tells Louis he still has it.

“Lou, cmon,” Harry says softly, bucking into his hand with a low groan. “Let me get you off too.”

Louis nods, pulling his hand away so Harry can get his fly open and reach into his jeans without much of a problem. Once Harry’s hand wraps around his cock, his eyes flutter shut and his rhythm on Harry falters just a little, slowing to a stop. He leans heavily against the door, his free hand fisting in the fabric of Harry’s shirt as he picks it back up again, trying to get across to Harry that he wants him faster, tighter.

Louis thumbs at the precome collecting on the head of Harry’s cock, stroking it back down his length and listening to the mewling whimper he earns at that move. He’s satisfied with himself until Harry replicates the motion and he’s almost reduced to a wide-eyed, breathless heap on the floor, getting dangerously close. Harry twists his wrist and now Louis is the one to make an embarrassing noise, his head falling back against the door with a low _thud_ that he thinks might hurt.

“Fuck,” Louis mumbles, his hips stuttering up into Harry’s hand. Heat is pooling in his stomach and he thinks that he’s a lot closer than he imagined. And God, he’s going to come all over Harry’s shirt and it looks like one of those shirts made of a fabric that has to be dry cleaned. He can’t wait for him to have to explain to his mum the questionable stain there.

“I’m close,” Harry says, crushing their lips together into a heated kiss.

It’s messy and it isn’t romantic when Louis’ body clenches with his orgasm, waves of heat pulsing over him as he moans into Harry’s mouth and he can feel Harry buck into his hand with abandon, groaning. It’s not romantic and it’s messy but it’s amazing and it’s maybe one of the best handjobs Louis has ever received, especially while high. If he thinks about it, he can still feel that same euphoria from his orgasm and it's glorious standing there with Harry’s long fingers still wrapped around his cock.

Louis opens his eyes, straightening up and letting go of Harry. Seeing it is just more evidence of how damn messy it was and he smirks, seeing that there’s a white streak over Harry’s shirt and both of their hands are slicked up in it. He presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek, rinsing his hand under the tap and feeling Harry watching him. Louis dries his hand off, adjusts his pants and gives Harry a smile, trying to ask him with just a facial expression to step away from the door so he can get back to the living room.

“So, uh, can I have your number?” Harry asks, biting his lip and blinking.

Louis kisses his cheek. “Maybe.”

Harry blinks.

“Okay,” Louis smiles, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone. He adds his number, slipping it back into Harry’s pocket before kissing him quickly. “Text me if you ever come to one of those shitty parties again, yeah? We’ll run away together again, maybe.”

Harry nods, kissing Louis’ forehead and it’s far too affectionate for him so he ducks past him and back into the living room, sitting on the couch next to Zayn.

The rest of the night is nowhere near as exciting as that orgasm in the bathroom but it’s good, better than the Halloween party. He gets a ride home with Jade, one of the sober people at the party and he thanks her with a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. When he gets home, it’s already silent and everyone is gone from the party, a plus, and he sneaks to his room and takes a long shower, washing away the smell of pot and maybe even the places where Harry’s touch still lingers. He doesn’t think he minds too much if Harry’s hands caused him bruises and scars from tonight’s events because he’d still have the memory of that amazing euphoria, the climax paired with the high from the weed.

He doesn’t think he minds if Harry’s lips left evidence all over him.

 

Louis stays home from school the next day, whining to his mum that he didn’t sleep well because of his headache and she’s sympathetic. He wakes up when the sun is already shining and he fucks around for a while, making himself breakfast and taking another shower to waste time before he actually checks his phone. There’s a text from his mum, telling him to feel better, and three unread messages from Zayn. Louis chuckles when he opens them and reads through them.

_lucky bastard u got to stay home_

_hey how was that guy u hooked up with_

_did u guys hook up??? tell me mate_

Louis replies, telling Zayn to come over later and he’d tell him all the horny details he wanted to hear. Zayn responds a few minutes later with a simple _ugh_ and it’s satisfying.

He wastes away his afternoon on the internet, doing a little bit of homework and ignoring the rest of the mess in the living room from the party last night. He greets his sisters when they get home and indulges them in asking about how much Halloween candy they got when trick-or-treating last night. And Zayn arrives about a half hour after them, knocking on the door before walking in and calling to Louis, announcing his presence. Louis kicks his sisters out, promising to play with them later and he lets Zayn in, giving him a grin.

“So that boy,” Zayn says, waggling his eyebrows.

Louis rolls his eyes as he shuts the door. “It was a hookup. One hand job in the bathroom and some kissing and that was it.”

“What’s his name?”

“Harry.”

“Is he nice?”

“Zayn, you know I’m not looking for a relationship. Fuck off.” He flicks Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn laughs, moving away from his reach. “I know, but he liked you.”

Louis rolls his eyes and quickly changes the subject, asking Zayn about Liam and if they both had fun last night and he hears all the details about that. He’s glad the subject of Harry is dropped because honestly, it was a hookup in a bathroom at a party and they were both high. It’s not like they’re going to be in a relationship and it’ll probably never happen again. It was nice, but it was a one-off and that’s all it is and ever will be.

 

Of course, Louis is proven wrong at his family’s next party. It’s a celebration for no good reason except to show off their lovely new school photos of Louis and talk about how they can’t believe he’s graduating this year. It’s really just a get together, his mum says, all their closest friends and associates are coming just for an early winter party. It really isn’t as small as his mum makes it out to be but it isn’t as big as the Halloween party so Louis doesn’t feel suffocated by the amount of people crowded into his house.

The Styles, Harry’s family, are there, and Louis gets a chance to speak to his parents, who he’s shocked to find are very humble and down to earth. Normally the families are all about boasting but Anne is more interested in how school is for Louis, what he’s planning on doing afterward and talking a little bit about her daughter, who’s in third year university. And then there’s his dad, offering advice about choosing a good school and giving him a few options that he promises to look into later, even though he has no interest into going into business.

And then there’s Harry, standing in the corner and playing with his phone, despite the fact it looks like he’s just looking at his home screen. He lights up when people speak to him, always so interested in their questions and conversing with them as though they were his close friends. Louis has this problem where he keeps them at arm’s length and never lets them get too personal, never lets himself relax around him, but Harry seems to be doing just the opposite and lighting them up just as much.

When there’s a lull in people talking to Harry and he’s back to looking uncomfortable and fiddling with his phone, Louis steps over with his can of coke in hand.

“Sorry there’s nowhere to sneak off to tonight,” Louis says softly, knowing the chatter of all the adults will muffle it.

Harry looks up, smiling warmly. “Nah, it’s fine. This isn’t really as bad as the last one.”

“They get worse as time goes on,” Louis intones. “It gets kind of sad, watching them all. It’s like they’ve forgotten how to have real fun and they’re just pretending.”

“Well, I’m having a little more fun now you’re here.”

Louis laughs at that, looking at Harry and he’s kind of shocked he’s said it with no cushion of intoxication. “You’re cute.”

Harry chuckles. “And I mean, going to another party with you would be better than this.”

“We could escape it for a bit. I live here.”

Harry nods. “I’m game.”

Louis grabs his hand to lead him away again but he lets go when he remembers all the adults watching. He knows his mum won’t mind if he leaves the party for a little while and it might look like he’s leading Harry to the bathroom, but holding Harry’s hand would be altogether too affectionate and might spark some suspicion in someone. He leads him down to the basement, his room, where it’s blessedly cool and mostly silent and best of all, has a lock and walls and no one else.

“Welcome to my room,” Louis says, locking the door behind them just in case.

“’S nice,” Harry says, turning and looking at Louis like he has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

Louis sits on the bed, beckoning for Harry to sit next to him. And he does and it’s nice. Harry points out one of Louis’ posters, a football team and they discuss it for a little while, about their favourite players and other teams they like, or hate. It’s nice, it’s friendly and Louis can almost forget that he watched Harry come three weeks ago. That is, until Harry sees Louis’ poster for The Script and he’s going on about his favourite song. Louis’ been bored since the party started and he’s been watching Harry’s lips for the last five minutes, just watching them move.

So he does what any sensible person would do and he leans over and kisses him.

Harry takes only a fraction of a second before he’s kissing Louis back and Louis likes this. He likes that Harry doesn’t mind that Louis kissed him in the middle of his sentence, completely cutting off his story about how much he loves that stupid song. He likes that Harry doesn’t pull away and look at Louis like he’s nuts because he was high last time they did anything and he isn’t high now. He likes that Harry is kissing him. He likes it a lot.

They move against each other and Louis maneuvers Harry so they’re chest to chest, falling back on the bed and landing nowhere near the pillows, pulling away so their teeth don’t bite into their lips. But immediately once the impact is over a whole new impact is created with their lips and their tongues are sliding together now, Louis overtop of Harry and licking hot and fast into his mouth and those puffy pink lips.

Louis’ hands reach down, popping the buttons off Harry’s shirt and pressing kisses down his chest as it becomes exposed, pressing little bites into the milky flesh and hoping to turn it purple and red. Harry’s response is to make these little whiny and breathy noises, and it spurs Louis on when he pushes away the black dress shirt and kisses and bites at Harry’s nipples. Underneath his hand, which he’s moved to Harry’s crotch to tease him, he can feel his length tenting the front of his nice pants and he sucks a mark near Harry’s nipple.

And then he sinks lower, undoing Harry’s belt and tugging down his pants and boxers and this might be better than the first time. He can remember most of what went on at the Halloween party but some details are foggy, apparently like remembering that Harry is hung.

“This okay?” Louis asks, his hand wrapping around the base of Harry’s dick and he watches his mouth fall open in a silent moan.

“’Course,” Harry mumbles with a small groan as Louis pumps his hand.

“Can I suck you off?” Louis asks.

Harry looks like he might choke on his own tongue and he nods enthusiastically. “Please.”

Louis licks his lips before closing them around Harry’s cock, making him gasp and groan a little again. Harry’s thighs bracket in around Louis’ head, tense, until Louis lies his hand on Harry’s hip to keep him from bucking up into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Harry grinds out, his hands fisted in Louis’ sheets.

It doesn’t take long of Louis hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing his head and licking at the head before Harry tenses up again. “Gunna come,” he warns and Louis simply continues on his way, using his hand to stroke the base of his cock.

He comes hard and hot into Louis’ mouth and he pulls off when he’s done,  sitting back on his heels and making a point to swallow and lick his lips all while watching Harry. Harry sits up, not missing a beat, and crushing his lips to Louis’, pushing him back against the mattress.

Harry does mostly the same thing to Louis that Louis did to him, except there are a lot more pauses where he pulls away to simply stroke Louis in his hand and kiss marks into his hips. Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t come quickly, but his excuse is that Harry has the lips of an angel, the kind of shit that belongs in pornos. When they’re both sated and boneless, Harry flops next to Louis, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and Louis can’t help but look down at himself; his pants are around his knees and his shirt has been pushed away from his chest and there’s marks dotting his skin. He doesn’t think he minds.

Louis glances at his clock once they’ve both regained their breath. “We should get back,” he says softly, sitting up and pulling up his boxers.

“This was nice,” Harry says, still lying there and looking all blissed out.

“Yeah,” Louis chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips. “It was.”

Louis sits up and pulls on his clothes, tucking in his shirt again and picking up a comb to soothe out the mess his hair became while he lay there getting sucked off by Harry. Partway through it, Harry stands up and fixes his own clothes after surveying the lovebites on his chest. They look over each other when they’re done dressing and fixing their hair and it takes about a second before they both dissolve into laughing fits.

Harry’s hair is messy, his curls all puffy from Louis running his fingers through them. Both of their cheeks are flushed and they look like they’ve just had the best orgasms of their life and their clothes are wrinkled. Harry reaches out and does up another button on Louis’ shirt, effectively hiding one of the hickeys he left a little too high and Louis likes the feeling of Harry helping him like this, even if it is a little affectionate.

“At least there’s no come on your shirt this time,” Louis says softly, making no move to go back upstairs.

Harry laughs. “I threw out that shirt.”

“How tragic,” Louis responds with very little conviction, smiling.

Harry leans down and presses his lips to Louis’. “We ought to get back.”

Louis nods, kissing Harry again. His lips taste sort of like Louis’ come; he hope his lips still taste like Harry.

When they finally do separate, they go back upstairs, hoping that it’s not too obvious to the adults what happened downstairs. Louis stays through the party and gives Harry a wink when his family leaves, hoping that they come to the Christmas party in a few weeks.

And as Louis flops down onto his bed, smelling the distinct odour of sex laced into his sheets, he hopes against rational thought that they hook up again at the Christmas party.

 

The living room is all done up with fairy lights and their tall Christmas tree is stood in the corner, decorated with baubles and tinsel and an ornate angel placed on top. Everyone’s drink of choice tonight is champagne in those fancy crystal flutes his mum got a few years ago, though there are a few rum in eggnogs floating around and it smells like Christmas, piney and spicy and warm. The lighting is a little lower than usual and it’s Louis’ favourite time of year. It’s been snowing all week and now here he is at a Christmas party, two days away from being eighteen, and his mum is letting him drink for once in celebration of that. The Christmas party is always Louis’ favourite because there’s always a portion of it that’s about him and this year that portion is being allowed to drink, legally, for the first time.

And of course, then there’s Harry, who’s really only adding to how much Louis likes Christmas.

They’ve been in Louis’ room for the last fifteen minutes, making out on his bed again and Louis has had a few glasses of champagne by now and his tongue is stained with the taste of it. Harry is shirtless and pliant underneath Louis and this is so fucking hot, the noises Harry makes when Louis rolls his hips down and their bulges slide together and when Louis nips at his lower lip. And the way Harry’s hands are situated on Louis’ ass, the way they’re touching, it’s all so hot.

Harry pulls away and mouths at Louis’ neck and he tips his head back, letting out a small whine. Louis is so glad they’re playing carols upstairs because it’s muffling everything.

“Wanna fuck you,” Harry murmurs, teeth closing around a segment of skin gently.

Louis whines. “Then do it.”

And he does. And he does. Harry slicks up his fingers with lube and pushes them into Louis one at a time, making him whine and whimper when he’s teased. He whines when Harry teases him, running the head of his dick around his hole before he pushes into him, thick and hot. And the teasing doesn’t stop there, starting with short, shallow little thrusts that leave Louis keening and asking for more until Harry’s control snaps and ends up fucking him with abandon until they’re both gasping each other’s names and coming hard.

Harry collapses next to Louis when they’re both done, planting a kiss to his cheek and humming a little. He fucking loves Christmas.

 

It happens again at the New Year’s party. They fuck in Louis’ bed again and they smear come over his sheets and he can’t really be arsed to care.

Zayn asks about it, asks what they are to each other now as they’re both holding joints at Zayn’s party. Louis shrugs, tells him that they’re nothing important and asks after Liam and Zayn’s family. Zayn asks again, later, when they’re both getting drowsy, if Louis would ever consider making this a Thing. Capital T, he specifies. Louis doesn’t know how to answer because he likes the sex but he’s not sure that classifying it as a Thing would be good for either of them, so he just shrugs and makes a noncommittal grunt and curls up into Zayn’s side, spewing some nonsense about how pretty the stars are.

Harry and Louis hook up again in February, Harry mumbling about how he’s eighteen now too and Louis maybe nicks a bottle of champagne for them to celebrate. Louis rides him and they share it and lie in bed together, sticky and Louis’ back smarting from where Harry’s nails dug into it when he came. They talk with their fingers linked together on the mattress as they pass the bottle back and forth and share little champagne-tainted kisses. It’s as intimate as anything Louis’ ever done but he’s too buzzed to care that much.

That night, Harry’s number ends up in Louis’ phone and they start texting during class, during weekends and whenever they don’t see each other. They even go out to see a movie together and it all feels very date-like when Louis holds Harry’s hand as he walks him to his car but he ignores it, kissing Harry on the cheek and reminding him that this was fun.

March is when it all comes to a crashing end.

His parents are hosting some party, celebrating the fact that they bought a yacht in preparation for the summer and they show off pictures of it and everyone ooh’s and ah’s at it like it’s actually impressive. Everyone talks about their own yachts and yachts they aspire to own and Louis can hardly stand it because it’s so stuffy and they’re all wiping their own wealth in each other’s faces. He knows he has plans to sneak out to Zayn’s again tonight but he can hardly stand it in the time being, plastering on a fake smile while he nods along to supposedly funny stories about yachting and going out on the water.

Finally, though, Louis excuses himself with a stomach ache and he heads down to his room, waiting for Harry to come down as well. He does a few minutes after Louis when he’s just buttoned and zipped his jeans, stumbling into the room with his beautifully long legs and he walks over, kissing him gently with his hand on Louis’ hip.

“Ready to go?” Louis asks once they’ve pulled apart.

Eyes bright, Harry nods. “Ready.”

Louis takes his hand and leads him down the hall, stopping along the way to steal kisses from each other and feet from the door, Harry gently pushes him against the wall and kisses him hard. It’s slow and sweet and long, Harry’s hands just above his arse and if he just pushed his hips forward, they’d be late to the party and they’d arrive in post-orgasm, both smiley and bright. But Louis pulls away from it and presses his lips to Harry’s cheek.

“C’mon. We’ve got a party to get to,” he says softly, watching Harry step away without any fight.

The car ride really isn’t the safest ever, with Louis keeping one hand on Harry’s thigh as he drives and Louis worries about it, since he’s biting his lip. When they get to Zayn’s party, Louis starts mouthing at Harry’s neck, nipping along the skin and making him moan a little. Harry turns his head, still wearing his seatbelt as they kiss, celebrating their successful escape with a kiss that soon turns more heated than Louis anticipated it would.

Louis pulls away and, in one fell swoop, gets out of the car and starts walking up the step, casting a glance back at Harry, who’s fumbling with his seatbelt. He follows quickly after Louis, getting to him just as he hits the front step and wraps his arms around his waist. Laughter bubbles in Louis’ throat and he tilts his head back when Harry kisses there, Harry’s grip pulling him closer to him and squeezing him gently.

Harry kisses along his jaw. “God, you are so…”

“Childish?” Louis supplies, suppressing another laugh.

“Mmm,” he hums, “more like beautiful.”

Louis smiles a little, the word creating a little warm spot in his chest. “Who cares how I look,” he murmurs. “Let’s get inside.”

Harry nods and opens the door, chasing Louis up the stairs and to the guest room. The door is shut but it’s unlocked and vacant. They stumble into it, Louis’ hands shoving gently at Harry’s chest so they can get out whatever energy is building up inside them and then get drunk or high. Harry trips on the carpet laid out beside the bed, sitting down hard at the foot of the bed as Louis shuts the door, laughing at how cute that is. The taller boy pouts and makes to get up but Louis pauses the movement with a persuasive kiss, getting down so his body is bracketed in by Harry’s long legs and effectively keeping them on the ground like this.

The kiss stays like that, Louis hovering over Harry as he lowers him gently so he’s lying against the carpet instead of sitting on it. He slides his hand up the front of Harry’s shirt, running along his chest and he wants it off, wants to kiss down Harry’s skin and bite at his nipples and make bruises on his skin with his teeth and his fingers. Harry sits up, pulling it over his head instead of spending any time with the buttons, and goes back to kissing him.

“Can we… switch things up?” Harry asks when he pulls away, his long fingers working at the buttons on Louis’ shirt.

“What?” Louis asks, too focussed on trying to make a little L of hickeys on Harry’s neck.

Harry pushes at Louis’ shirt. “I want you to fuck me.”

Louis sits back to look at Harry. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Louis nods, not thinking about the worry in his chest because it’s been a long time since he’s fucked anybody and it’s been even longer since he’s fucked a boy. “Lube. Condom,” he says softly. Zayn might have some but Louis doesn’t quite want to admit that he’s about to fuck someone on the floor of Zayn’s guest room.

“There’s some in the glove box of my car,” Harry supplies. “Hurry.”

Louis nods, pulling his shirt back on and doing up one of the buttons, apathetic as to which one because a shirtless boy running through the party wouldn’t be the strangest thing to ever happen. He goes down the stairs, out the door and back to the car, definitely ignoring the way his heart his thrumming in his chest.

When he gets back to the guest room, taking a moment to remember each one, Harry is lying naked on the floor still, the catalogue-quality bed ignored. Louis can’t help but stare at him for a moment, looking at the muscles over his torso and documenting with his eyes all the curves, or lack thereof, of Harry’s hips and his long thighs.

“Did you get it?” Harry asks.

Louis nods mutely, tossing the lube and condom to Harry while he strips down, piling his clothes beside Harry’s. “Are we gunna fuck on the floor?” He asks.

Harry shrugs. “’S good a place as any.”

Louis sinks down to his knees and Harry pulls him into a kiss, the undersides of his thighs touching the tops of Louis’ and it’s hot. He fumbles for the lube, finding it beside Harry’s hand and pulling away from the kiss to get the lid, slicking up his fingers and reaching down. His finger slides between his cheeks and for a second he wonders if Harry will stop him but his face if flushed and his cock his hard against his stomach. Louis pushes into him slowly, and he’s so tight, clenching around his finger. He worries he’s doing this all wrong, that all his knowledge of fucking someone has left him, until his finger gets knuckle-deep inside him and Harry lets out this low moan that reverberates in his chest.

It’s kind of fumbled and Louis is so out of practice with this but Harry is sweet, encouraging him on with moans and whines. Louis gets two fingers into him without much difficulty, pushing them in and out and finding a rhythm that’s making Harry tip his head back and moan, his chest heaving.

“Been wanting this for so long,” Harry mumbles as Louis starts sliding in a third finger.

“Yeah?” Louis asks quietly and the thought of Harry wanting this, of Harry lying in bed at night and fingering himself until he came into his sheets is so hot he has to wrap his free hand around his cock to relieve some of the pressure.

Harry nods, his breathing even heavier as Louis begins pushing in out his three fingers and moaning when Louis curls his fingers just the right way. He’s so tight around his fingers and Louis doesn’t know how long he’ll last once he gets inside him, that same tightness around his prick instead of his fingers and watching Harry like this is killing him. Louis kisses at Harry’s chest to distract himself, keeping his fingers inside him.

“Are you good?” He asks against his chest, his heartbeat rapid underneath his lips. He thinks that if his cock wasn’t painfully hard against his stomach, he might like to watch Harry come like this.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, voice breathless.

Louis pulls his fingers out and he has nowhere to wipe his fingers so he does it on the carpet, figuring that no one will really notice anyway. He grabs the condom, his hands shivering as he tears it open and gets it on with some difficulty. He puts a little more lube on his cock, his hand pumping it as he slicks it over and he’s almost tempted to stay like that but Harry is laid out for him and that’s not something he can overlook.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Louis says softly, lining himself up with Harry’s entrance. He gets no plea to stop so he presses into him, making Harry hiss but he never says to stop so Louis keeps going until he’s bottomed out.

He stays still inside Harry, giving them both a second to adjust so this entire thing won’t be over in a matter of seconds. When Harry moves his hips down, rocking against Louis’ cock, he moves his hips back and pushes back in. Harry is so tight around him. It doesn’t even take long before he’s sure he’s not hurting Harry and his thrusts are faster, braver, spurred on by Harry’s moans and whines and the way his fingers are digging into his back.

Louis tries focussing on the physical feeling of all of this, how good it feels to have his cock inside him and how the small twinge of pain in his back hardly even hurts. He doesn’t think about the colour of Harry’s eyes (dark, mossy green) or how the room has this distinct intimacy that’s thickening the air around them. Harry pulls him down for a kiss, propping himself up with one elbow to meet Louis halfway until Louis bends to meet him as well, the angle of his hips changing and it makes Harry fall away from the kiss, moaning loudly.

“Are you-?” Louis asks quickly.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” Harry moans. “Keep going.”

Louis nods, kissing at Harry’s collarbone and fucking into him with abandon until he comes over their chests with a moan of Louis’ name. Louis doesn’t last too much long after that, his hips stuttering as he comes white-hot into the condom and his teeth sink into the milky skin around Harry’s collarbone.

He pulls out slowly, tossing out the condom in the trash bin and grabbing a few tissues off the nightstand, wiping the come off their chests and tossing it into the bin. He sits next to Harry for a minute, the both of them catching their breath until Louis breaks the tranquil silence and he can hear the music of the party downstairs. He stands up, starting to get dressed and he can see Harry’s mouth open in unspoken words but the idea of Harry speaking after that, which was wrought with intimacy, is too much and Louis kisses the words away.

“Let’s go get drunk, yeah?” He suggests, pulling his clothes back on.

They both get dressed and head downstairs and Louis knows how this looks. Their faces are shiny with sweat and they probably smell like sex and come and each other. They might as well be wearing signs around their necks, fluorescent, that say “we just had sex”. But Louis goes straight to the kitchen, bypassing the basement because he knows that weed just won’t do tonight. He grabs an unopened beer from the fridge and goes into the living room, joining the party and losing Harry in the crowd. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Louis is on his third beer by the time there’s this redheaded girl who keeps dancing near him, bumping into him and then turning to apologize with the most rehearsed giggle. Louis dances with her because she’s pretty and this is a good song to have someone to dance with. It’s harmless fun, indulging the wishes of a drunk girl at a party, until the song changes to something a little slower that’s got a heavy beat and it’s raw and it’s hot. They dance a little slower and the girl’s lips attach themselves to Louis’ neck and he wonders if she can smell Harry on his skin.

Something by Beyoncé comes on and Louis tugs her into the hallway by the stairwell, away from everyone else who wants to dance, and he puts his hands on her hips and lets her kiss him, the saccharine taste of her drink bleeding into his mouth. He’s just starting to think he could get hard again and this could lead to being upstairs for a second time in the night when someone pushes them apart and they step away from each other, both of them indignant that they were stopped without warning. The person responsible is Harry, his face echoing his apparent hurt.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice loud to be heard over the music.

“Having fun,” Louis replies, wearing a smile because isn’t that obvious? “What are you doing?”

Harry shakes his head, going for the front door and Louis hesitates to follow him. This could end one of two ways: messy, with the both of them crying or it could end in a little romance, making up by the moonlight. Either way, it’s not quite as good as getting some for a second time that night. He follows Harry outside, though, onto the lawn where there’s a girl sat on the side of it, looking like she’s had far too much to drink.

“Why are you mad?” Louis asks, breathing in the cool air. It’s sobering, a little.

“You were all over her,” Harry says, looking at him. “You might as well have been fucking her right then and there.”

“So?” Louis counters.

“Fuck,” Harry chuckles. “Are you really that thick? I really want you, Louis. I like you a lot.”

“That doesn’t mean you have some sort of claim on me.”

“Doesn’t it? When we’ve been having sex since December? Doesn’t it mean _anything_ to you?”

Louis shrugs. He knew it was going to be like this.

Harry takes a deep breath. “Fine. Do you want a relationship with me?”

“No,” Louis says, almost automatically.

Harry sets his jaw. “You’re a dick.”

“How? Because I don’t want a relationship?” Louis asks.

“Because you just made out with some girl after.. after you fucked me. And I swear to God it wasn’t just a fuck, you know it wasn’t. You felt it too. You know that this was more than a casual hook up.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to make a relationship,” Louis mumbles, his arms covering his chest.

Harry shakes his head. “Well, I do.”

“Too bad.”

“Fuck you,” Harry spits, turning and storming to his car. Louis can only watch him get in and drive off and worry that he’s drunk and he’ll crash.

His heart pounding, he goes back into the party, the redheaded girl waiting for him but he shakes his head and she goes off somewhere else, no expectations for him. Louis automatically goes upstairs to Zayn’s room, blessedly empty, and he locks the door as he falls down onto his bed, surrounded by Zayn’s posters and the smell of his best friend. It’s comforting, in a way, even though he knows Zayn is probably in the basement, getting high with his boyfriend.

Louis shuts his eyes tight against the image of Liam and Zayn together. They’re always so happy, holding hands and smiling into each other’s eyes and Louis teases them about being nauseating every once in a while. He’s always wanted something like that, something where they’re always happy around each other and radiating this happy feeling that makes everyone around them feel good. He wants what Liam and Zayn have and he just gave up a perfectly good opportunity to have it.

But he’s no good at relationships. It’s not that he’s never been in a proper one and usually just hooks up with people at parties but it’s that none of his relationships have lasted longer than three months and he’s always the one dumping them. He’s been in three relationships. His first, with Eleanor, was when they were both too young to necessarily be ready for a relationship but they did anyway and Louis broke it off after a month. Kat lasted for three months and it was good, it was nice, but his interest in her dwindled and he broke up with her. His most recent, which was really two years ago now, was with a boy named Nick. Louis thought he was in love with him but slowly, the way Nick spoke and the way he conducted himself all began to annoy Louis until he had to break up with him.

Relationships aren’t Louis’ strong-suit. He doesn’t want Harry to be another Nick or another Kat, who both cried when he told them it was over and made him feel like such a jerk. He doesn’t want his interest to wane and he doesn’t want to have to sit him down and tell him it’s over. It’s been easier to just fuck people and not let it get to the point where it got with Harry. He shouldn’t have ever invited him downstairs to his room, he shouldn’t have given him that first night after they hooked up for the first time. He should’ve left it at meaningless, albeit amazing, hand jobs in Zayn’s bathroom while they were both still high.

Zayn comes upstairs and Louis notices only now that the music is gone. He doesn’t say anything but he does turn on the light, which makes Louis blink, and he sits beside him on the bed. His hand brushes through his hair so gently it makes him want to cry. Zayn knows him too well.

“What happened?” Zayn asks softly.

“Harry matters,” Louis manages, his chest tightening and he hates that he’s crying.

Zayn pets his hair while he cries and offers to let him stay the night. They cuddle together under Zayn’s blankets and he smells like pot and Liam and it makes him ache. He falls asleep like that, though, all cuddled up with Zayn.

 

Even though Harry matters, life goes on. For the first time, Louis gets caught sneaking out the night it all ends and he hardly cares. He goes to Zayn’s a lot more often and he avoids the next stupid party like the plague, sucking it up and ordering himself a pizza before it starts and hiding in his room all night. He tries not to listen for Harry’s laugh and he tries not to feel for his presence, which always infected the air and seized his heart. He really doesn’t consider going out there either, and he stays holed up in his room with his greasy pizza and his lonely heart that’s purging every contaminate of Harry.

Louis picks his ass up for the party in early April mostly because his graduation portraits came in the mail recently and his mum is dying to show them off. So he lets her and he socializes with people like Nicole and John Barese and people who work with his parents and tell him how wonderful he is, how he’s going to go so far in life. Once he’s starting to feel a little dizzy from how many people there are and how he keeps seeing Harry with his mum and dad, well-dressed and looking good.

He looks really fucking good, actually, about a million times better than Louis feels and he wants to tell him that he matters. He escapes downstairs, telling his mum that he’ll be back in just a minute, he just needs a break. He immediately pops the top button of his shirt, trying not to think about all the times Harry did that and kissed his neck and fucked him perfectly. In a way, the sex and the hooking up and Harry at all made him look forward to these shitty parties, made tolerating the Bareses worth it and made being trapped in a suffocating, stuffy living room with rich assholes almost okay. Just as long as he got to have sex with Harry later that evening.

Without a knock and without any warning, his bedroom door opens and Louis almost snaps, the words forming just behind his teeth to remind them this isn’t the bathroom. It’s not his mum or his stepdad or anyone else but it’s Harry, all doe-eyed and pretty and he looks sheepish now instead of hot.

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Just… that was sort of the signal, wasn’t it?”

Past tense. Louis aches. Instead of weeping like he feels like doing, he shrugs, keeping his gaze fixed on Harry.

There’s a long silence. “Congrats on your grad portraits. They’re lovely.”

“Thanks. I’m sure yours are too.”

Harry shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets and this is awkward as anything. “Thanks.”

Silence again, persisting for longer. It’s pierced only by shrill laughs and the muffled buzz of conversation.

“Why are you still here?” Louis asks, looking down at his hands. If it were him, he’d have told Harry his portraits were lovely and then promptly fucked off, calling it a major success and an advancement in their almost-relationship.

Harry shrugs again. “You look upset.”

Louis shrugs, his fingers still twiddling together. He’s aware of Harry moving closer but he ignores it, hoping that Harry takes his indifference as a sign to leave so he can catch his breath. He’s kind of embarrassed about it but it’s awful being in the same room as someone he thinks he could have fallen for and it takes away his breath in the worst kind of way.

Harry’s fingers slide along his jaw down to his chin, lifting it gently. In the same breath, Harry’s lips are covering Louis’, held together ever so gently. And then they’re moving together, slowly and carefully as if rediscovering each other even though it’s only been a week or two since they last kissed. Harry’s body eventually blankets over Louis’ and they strip each other off, even though Louis knows he should push Harry away and tell him to fuck off and leave him alone. It’s too hard to resist, and letting it happen is easier and it feels better in the moment.

It doesn’t feel good when Harry tosses out the condom and kisses his forehead, getting dressed and going back upstairs. It doesn’t feel good at all and Louis thinks that Harry left marks this time, every inch of him exposing some sort of shape on Louis’ skin, on his being, on his heart. It doesn’t feel good at all.

To prove to himself he’s fine, he stands up and he gets dressed, cleaning off the sticky come on his chest and fixing his hair before rejoining everyone upstairs, injecting himself back into the vapid conversation. He keeps this fake smile on his face until he’s doing something he hasn’t done in a long time and he’s helping everyone get their coats and get to their cars, bidding them goodnight. He helps his mum clean up, even, just to avoid his bedroom where he knows he won’t sleep. He’ll be too busy remembering the way it felt when Harry touched him, when Harry fucked him and when Harry made him come from just his cock.

The next day, he gets high with Zayn and Liam and Niall, recounting the events and listening to all of them tell him that what he did was so wrong and he should never, ever let it happen again. Louis promises them up and down that he won’t but when he sees the way Liam and Zayn look at each other, he wants to do it again so badly just so he can feel loved for the five minutes it takes. Maybe he wants to whisper to Harry after they’re both done that he was wrong. Maybe he wants to be wrong.

It’s not like he’s broken and everything has turned to shit. He still laughs and he can still distract himself and feel happiness, forgetting completely about everything that happened. He has fun with his friends and it’s okay until he’s sitting alone on his bed, his homework spread in front of him that he remembers about all of it and he wishes he had Harry on the other end of his phone, talking him through his shitty history homework. When he’s alone, it all comes to a crashing end and he wants to text Harry or see Harry.

He’s lonely. Zayn has Liam and Niall has Jasmine and Louis has himself and that’s it. He had Harry at the tips of his fingers and if he’d just taken the plunge and curled them in closer, he’d have him. But he’s a frightened asshole and he let Harry go. He didn’t think he wanted a relationship but he does, he does so badly that it aches that he almost had one and he let it go. He wonders, curiously, what would happen if he texted Harry, telling him he changed his mind. It wouldn’t go well, he’s sure. He’d get a strongly worded message back telling him to fuck off.

He wants to love so wholly that it consumes him and it’s the only thing he feels for days at a time but he’s afraid of losing it all. He watched his mum lose his dad, watched her cry for days and take years to find his stepdad. He never wants to go through it himself, even though he knows he’s a teenager and it won’t be as painful as the end of a marriage; it doesn’t look fun and he doesn’t want to put another person through it.

Louis is relieved a week later, sitting in English class and doodling on his paper as the class discusses the novel around him when his phone vibrates on the desk. He grabs it so it doesn’t make any noise and his teacher doesn’t give him more than a glance. He unlocks his phone and looks at the message, from Harry, his heart beating in his throat when he sees the contact name of the message.

_Miss you_

His phone vibrates again, another message coming up in the same conversation.

_Sorry… wrong person._

His heart falls into his stomach. Harry misses someone that isn’t him, or Harry is too embarrassed to admit he misses him. Louis taps out a quick text.

_I miss you too._

He waits three minutes for a reply.

_I doubt it_

_Please just meet me somewhere. The park?_

_Fine. I’ll be there after school_

It isn’t quite the answer Louis was looking for but it’s good enough. It’s a yes of some sort and that’s all that matters. He struggles through the last block of school and nearly runs to the park, a bad idea since it’s warm out and it makes perspiration blot out onto his forehead.

Louis waits a total of fifteen minutes before Harry walks up, carrying a vitamin water that Louis knows they sell in the vending machines of his school.

“Hi,” he says, his voice almost quivering with excitement and the fact he’s got this chance, this incredible chance to fix what he fucked up.

“Hi,” Harry mumbles, taking a long sip of his water.

“So, uhm, I kind of realized what a dick I was that night you asked me if I wanted to be in a relationship and it was a mistake.”

“Too bad.”

Louis’ heart plummets. “What?”

“Too bad. I don’t want to be with you.”

His chest feels like it’s collapsing as he nods, the warm air suddenly constricting and making it harder to breathe instead of inciting hope and promise. “Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

Harry nods, turning away and walking away and Louis wants to reach out and ask him what’s changed in less than a month. Did he find someone new? Did he realize that Louis wasn’t worth the time?

He takes a deep breath, his entire body aching and everything feeling heavy, and he leaves.

 

Zayn throws a party the weekend before graduation, coinciding perfectly with a stupid party that his mum is throwing for quite literally no reason. Louis sneaks out to Zayn’s party early, hoping to ease his broken heart and his loneliness with weed and a new hookup. Eventually, though, the boy he has his eye on starts kissing a girl and he takes one of the joints and goes out to the porch, wondering if anyone will follow him and wondering if being surrounded by grass and nature and not people will soothe him.

He’s out there in the warm night air, smoking for a while and it feels good like this. He’s lonely but it’s stunted with the pot in his system and he feels like maybe there’s still hope for him. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, he reminds himself, and he doesn’t have to stay hung up on just one of them. He can get over Harry, he says to the stars.

Someone opens the back door and Louis looks over his shoulder, wondering if it’s someone about to be sick and unable to get to the bathroom. But it’s not like that at all. The tall person with fantastic legs and wonderful hair is too well dressed for this party, wearing a blazer over a button up and Louis thinks it might be fun to take it all off before his broken heart catches up with him. Fuck. It’s Harry standing there, walking close and sitting on the porch steps beside Louis, carefully and peering at the wood before he lowers himself down.

His long fingers reach for the joint, an unspoken question that Louis obliges immediately and then kicks himself for it. He has no reason to be giving Harry a pull off his joint, he should have said no and taken a long drag of it before grinning madly.

“It took me a while to find you,” Harry says softly as he hands it back and breathes out the smoke in a steady stream. “I had to stop Zayn on his way to a bedroom with that guy.”

“Liam,” Louis murmurs.

Harry nods. “Liam. I looked in the basement. I looked in the living room. I got kind of worried that maybe you actually did have a headache and you were just lying down and I missed you completely.”

“Nah,” he says quietly. “Just smoking on my own. Like the social fucking butterfly I am.”

There’s silence and Louis hands the joint back to Harry when he reaches for it.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says. “About how I acted when you said you changed your mind. That was kind of rude.”

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said no. I shouldn’t have been making out with her.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Yours too.”

There’s a little silence, Louis gaining the strength to look at Harry as he takes a pull of the joint.

“You know, I still want you,” he says softly, watching Harry exhale and watching his lips pull into a smile.

“Yeah? Just as a hookup, though?” Harry asks. He’s watching Louis right back, holding the joint between his fingers.

“No,” Louis says, honestly. “I want a relationship.”

Harry smiles a little bigger, nodding to spur Louis on and he’s caught a little off guard.

“Uh, will you be my boyfriend?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Harry says, leaning over and covering Louis’ lips with his own, sealing the deal.


End file.
